


What To Give The Detective Who Has Everything

by helloliriels



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Gen, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, The Gangs All Here, and cake ensues, terrible singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloliriels/pseuds/helloliriels
Summary: Everyone's been invited over for a little bash. It's Sherlock's Birthday. There will be cake! (Yes, we want you to come too Mycroft!) No gifts please, by request.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	What To Give The Detective Who Has Everything

"Why do I have to wear the hat, John?"

"It's tradition," Watson called from behind his back. 

Watson was dancing around the kitchen getting things ready as they heard Mycroft, Molly, and Lestrade come in. Faces started peeking around the corner to watch the scene, not wanting to get under foot. A few teacups appeared from behind Sherlock's head, as Watson rooted around in the cupboard. Seconds later, a party blower was popped in his mouth, and Sherlock visibly scowled over at Mycroft's _look_. Molly giggled. She knew Sherlock was making sure they all _knew_ this was not something they would get away with. _Only Watson_. Despite this, he was clearly enjoying himself.

Anyone could tell by the way he was watching John bustle about like a busy bee. A softness in his eyes. Kindness itself. _Some sociopath he was turning out to be._

Hudders popped up from downstairs, the cake in her hands and candles... so many candles! Lit up on top. Sherlock's eyes widened.

Everyone chimed in with a, "Happy Birthday Sherlock!!" And began singing as loudly and off-key as they could possibly muster to annoy the heck out of him. Watson trying to contain a laugh between every other word he sang.

Sherlock let slip a small side-smile as they continued.

Watson bent down by his ear with a - "Saw that. Don't try to hide it mister!" - and giving Sherlock's shoulder a squeeze.

Sherlock smiled wide in open honesty this time. _Why hide it?_

"Fine!" He laughed, and blew out the candles with the party blower to make them stop. This time, Watson's laughter was infectious, and they were all in stitches. Slicing up the cake and passing plates around. The clink of forks and teacups was a welcome addition to Sherlock's usually quiet kitchen. Chattering picked up as they all started mingling and eating. Somewhere Watson was playing music from his laptop. A happy birthday mix of sappy pop songs he knew Holmes would cringe at and enjoy every minute of.

"Didn't know you could do that, actually," Watson commented offhand, still grinning like a Cheshire cat after everyone had settled down. Sherlock was digging into his piece of cake. A rare sight to see, in-and-of itself. Watson leaned against the cupboard soaking in the moment.

"I had calculated it was as likely to blow out the flame as to catch on fire. Fifty-fifty really," Sherlock stated as if rolling out a deduction, eyeing the party trumpet. "A silly thing to do. But either way" He slowed down his words here, "a win for me."

"You just wanted the singing to end," Watson stated.

"I just wanted the singing to end." Sherlock confessed.

"Won't get the chance to hear this choir for another year I'm afraid," Watson teased, "your loss."

"Indeed," was Sherlock's rejoinder. He was taking in the room quietly and enjoying every minute of his found family. Thinking about the promise of a _next year_. A next _month_ even. A next _day._

Something beyond _this moment_. This was worth enjoying.

It warmed his heart.

He hadn't allowed himself such thoughts, such hopes. Such optimism. Since the fall. Not since... He shook his darker thoughts away. With everyone around him here, now .... it all seemed so simple.

"You might have to make a song request then. For _next_ year." Watson went on, crinkling his nose up. "New tune, perhaps? Could use some practice." His head bobbed as he spoke, "Sorry there were no gift-" he cut-off as Sherlock looked up, hand out - broken from his reverie. He was giving Watson a look. The look of a man who'd just been given _the world_. And could ask no more of the universe. Lest he jinx it. This new luck he'd found.

The sentiment in his eyes overwhelmed John

He reached out, to pull Sherlock up from his chair and enveloped him in a bear hug. Held him close.

He understood. The gifts were already _in_ this room. Sherlock hugged back with a contented sigh.

It was going to be a good year.


End file.
